


To Lose, To Gain

by farmgirl



Series: Bonds [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Betaed, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fortunately Crowley is available, Friendship, Gaslighting, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Loads of Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Abuse, Please read the tags for triggers, Pre-Relationship, Recovery is a road, Sharing a Bed, The Fall (Good Omens), Warm hopeful ending, a long one, abuse recovery, discussions of, for our favorite angel, loads of hugs, please give Aziraphale some much needed catharsis, talking about The Fall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24410773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farmgirl/pseuds/farmgirl
Summary: Aziraphale is recalled to Heaven and immediately sentenced to the loss of his 2nd set of wings. An old acquaintance helps him return to Earth and Crowley. They end up in Crowley’s flat where the demon desperately tries to care for a stricken angel who shows up in tears and covered in his own blood.  The loss of his second set of wings costs Aziraphale a portion of his power since they’re tied to his essence.  It damages his actual soul, a terrifying concept for any spiritual being. On top of his physical recovery, he's also in a lot of emotional anguish as the angel now has to work through everything heaven did to him for the past 6000 years.  Meanwhile, Crowley is fighting with his hatred of the archangels, his own memories of his Fall, as well as an intense desire to tell the hurting angel in his bed that he loves him and would do anything to make him smile, to heck with them Upstairs.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Bonds [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762834
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	1. Pain and Discussion

**Author's Note:**

> I now have a beta reader! Please thank LawrVert for kindly helping me squash grammar bugs, clear fluidity, and reassure me when I panic!  
> My beta reader's profile can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrVert/profile)
> 
> Hi guys, welcome to the third story of what IS, in fact, a series now! This is the sequel to my previous two fics and at THIS point, you really might want to go back and read the two before. At least the two-shot before this one in order to know what's going on in Aziraphale's head at the time this tale takes place. This is not yet complete, but I'm working slowly on it. Since I have two chapters, it seemed the best time to just put it out there.
> 
> Some warnings first. If you have suffered from emotional abuse or gas-lighting, THIS STORY IS POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING. Seriously people, I actually triggered MYSELF when attempting to write it too fast and at a bad time. This story is a major reason you might notice I posted some lighthearted fluffy smut for Good Omens because I NEEDED the break mentally. I don't want anyone to walk in and not be aware of this.
> 
> Now that said, this deals mostly with RECOVERY from emotional abuse. There is a major bit of physical abuse that takes place at the start, giving our favourite angel the push he needs to face what Upstairs is really like. But don't expect this journey to go smoothly. The effects of emotional abuse, and especially gas-lighting, can be long-lasting and some are permanent. In the interest of full disclosure, yes I was emotionally abused and gas-lighted by a portion of my "relations" for a good part of my youth. Only recently, like the past 6-7 years, have I come to grips with what happened to me. It's hard, and my wife has been a huge part of my recovery. When I watched Good Omens the first time, I was struck with how Aziraphale and the Archangels interacted, and the parallels to my only experiences were drawn. Even more so because, like Aziraphale, my faith in RELIGION, in conservative so-called "christians" died a painful death. But my faith in God has never faded. I wanted to write a story about Aziraphale finally coming to terms with the separation, as well as what the wankers in charge of Heaven in Good Omens really have done to him.
> 
> I hinted that his head-space isn't the best at the end of my last story. This is the ultimate exploration of that, as well as the road to recovery. It's also the difficulties of loving someone and trying desperately to help them see themselves as valued and valuable. I do think Crowley has issues, but he has different ones from Aziraphale, and his can be slightly more easily buried.
> 
> (If you notice my spelling has changed, it's because I've thrown hands at the American spelling system and gone back across the pond to the UK/British spelling. It makes so much better sense and I've been using parts of it for years. This isn't a college paper, so I can do what I want!)
> 
> There is again, no graphic descriptions outside some wounds and angelic blood mentions. No actual descriptions of amputation.

The universe was going swimmingly for one Demon Crowley, formerly known as Crawly. He had a lunch date with Aziraphale later that day. Currently, he was finishing watering and terrorising the plants into submission so he wouldn’t have to worry about it later in case their lunch date proceeded the way it usually did, by turning into a dinner date and then drinks back at the bookshop. 

Post-Apocanope wasn’t going too badly. He and the angel had chased off Heaven and Hell (for now) which left the two of them free to do as they pleased. And despite a brief scare with blood feathers during a moult (Really Angel? You don’t groom?) and a bit of a fiasco with Hastur and some corrupt politician trying to sell his soul; they were doing pretty well.

Not that they were any closer to each other mind, but after 6000 years Crowley had almost resigned himself to the fact that the most he might ever get from Aziraphale was some hand-holding and a bit of endearing “hovering” from time to time. It was better than having the angel cut him off entirely, or worse, parrot Heaven (namely Gabriel, the wanker) at him like the angel never thought for himself. 

Unfortunately, sometimes the universe or God maybe just seemed to like to fuck him over whenever things were finally going well.

There was a sudden blindingly familiar flash of lightning that signalled transport from Heaven to Earth. Crowley froze in shock until he heard a sob. He followed the sound, and found Aziraphale, leaning heavily on an angel he had never seen before. The other angel hardly registered though, as the sight of Aziraphale drenched in celestial blood more than took up his attention at the moment. The demon lunged for the Principality instinctively, catching him as the angel’s legs gave out and he slid towards the floor.

“AZIRAPHALE!”

Apparently, Aziraphale was more aware than he had any right to be, as he clung to Crowley still gasping in pain. His angel tried to suppress the sobs now, not entirely successfully. From this angle, Crowley could finally see what was wrong. On the lower back of Aziraphale’s ancient cream coat,blood was seeping from two wide slash marks. From there it was spreading at an alarming rate. The demon forgot to breathe for a moment, as he realized what this was. He’d seen it eternities ago before the Earth even existed, when the first angels had Fallen. 

Upstairs had decided on a “better” punishment than Hellfire. They’d cut off Aziraphale’s 2nd set of wings.

His attention abruptly zeroed in on the other angel in the room. An angel with an apparently female appearance and flowing dark brown curls. She(?) paled at the accusation on his face and spoke up quickly before he could start interrogating her.

“I’m not the one who did it. I heard about it through the grapevine and tried to stop them, but it was too late. I can’t do a thing about the bleeding though, and discorporation will be far worse for him now that Upstairs has labelled him rogue. Can you do anything? Demonic miracles differ from angelic.”

Despite the imminent danger, the demon was suspicious. “Who the fuck are you and how did you get him here?”

She smiled tightly. “I’m Elíse, Virtue of Love. It’s easy enough to get him out of Heaven, for me at least. As to ‘here’, this is where Aziraphale wanted to go. I simply read his desires and fulfilled them.”

That… was something to think about later, much later, when he wasn’t genuinely terrified his angel would discorporate in his arms. Crowley shifted Aziraphale gently. 

“Hang on, Angel, I’ve got you.” He closed his eyes and focused on Aziraphale’s back. _Please, Somebody, please let this work._ Because if it didn’t, he knew only one way, and the thought of doing that to Aziraphale made him sick. He snapped his fingers and sensed the bleeding stop. 

Crowley aided his angel with an arm around the waist, tugging him off towards the bedroom. He eyed the strange angel in the room with continuing suspicion. “Thanks, I’ve got him at this point.” The Virtue (a real Virtue, how the Heaven did she know Aziraphale? She was from the second Choir for Satan’s sake!) Whoever she was, at least she had the sense not to argue with him. She seemed to be deliberately backing off for the moment, almost wary of the demon.

Crowley knew he should probably care, but was far more concerned with Aziraphale at the moment. The bleeding had stopped, but the demon knew better than anyone that that would be the least of his angel’s problems when he finally came to all the way. For the moment he was at least helping with walking, which was a relief. The demon hauled him into his bedroom, automatically locking the door and sealing the room behind him. No, he was definitely not paranoid. 

“Sorry about this, Angel, but I think those clothes are a dead loss” the demon murmured, hopefully soothingly. He miracled the angel into a set of pyjama bottoms. They weren’t tartan, but at least they were comfortable. Hopefully, Aziraphale would wait on being upset about being shirtless until the demon had time to warn him. Even with the open wounds scabbed over, Aziraphale’s back would be painful for a while. The demon carefully guided the angel over to his bed eyeing the pile of clothes now sitting on the dresser. _Nothing I can do about those, not after a healing_

Demonic healing was a funny thing. It functioned, but not nearly as easily as Angelic healing. Unfortunately, with Aziraphale this injured, especially with injuries to his literal soul, his angelic healing would be delayed for a while. And who knew what long-term damage to Aziraphale’s actual true self there would be? 

Wings were manifestations of a spiritual being’s true form. Generally, the only part touchable on a corporation, since spiritual beings were really souls crammed into a shell while on earth. Their souls, life essences, true forms, whatever name it was called, usually manifested around the corporation like some kind of cloud. It could be pulled back or could interact with others if the being desired. 

Seeing the literal essence of a spiritual being for humans was rare, and part of the reason for the images of halos in the artwork. Also, the rationality behind the whole, “Do not be afraid” spiel. Few humans could handle spiritual beings in their true forms. Eldritch Horror is the least of what the literal soul of an angel or demon looks like. Most mortals prefer to forget.

In short, Crowley had drained himself for the rest of the day. Minor miracles were easy, but taking angelic blood out of human fabric would absolutely require more than he had to give at the moment. Maybe he could save the coat later. Aziraphale was rather attached to the old thing, but the rest would probably be a dead loss. Celestial blood was a bright gold colour that faded to an almost mustard shade and getting it out of mortal fabrics was a special kind of nightmare.

Meanwhile, the demon tried his best to tuck the angel into bed.

“Sleep, you’ll need it,” he muttered gruffly, fighting the urge to crawl in with him. Aziraphale probably wanted to be alone for a bit. And there was a strange angel possibly/definitely still in his living room. Crowley turned to leave, intending to add a few more demonic sigils to the door on his way out, but a hand stopped him. 

“Stay please.” Even if the tone hadn’t swayed him, the blue eyes full of pain would have. The demon didn’t hesitate any longer, snapping his fingers to change into black silk pyjamas. He then slipped into the enormous bed and promptly froze as the angel slid over to press his face to the demon’s chest. Said demon swallowed and cautiously slid his arms around Aziraphale, mindful to keep away from the injuries on his back. He felt the angel relax and his breathing evened out, showing he’d finally fallen asleep. Crowley huffed a weak laugh, stirring white curls and buried his face in his angel’s hair.

“Fuck.” 

He was damned (well more damned) how he was supposed to survive this. It might be days before Aziraphale was healed enough to be on his own again. If this was how they would spend those days, he was going to potentially lose it. And yet, he had no intention of moving. If his angel wanted him, Crowley would guard him against forces of Heaven, or Hell should it decide to rear its ugly head again.

* * *

Aziraphale awakened the next morning to find himself in his best friend's bed. 

_How on earth did I get in Crowley’s flat?!_

The previous day came back to him as he tried to roll over only to gasp as his back contacted the mattress. Apparently sheets and blankets were light enough not to bother the wounds too much, but putting weight on them was another matter. Though that might explain why he found himself shirtless and only covered from the waist down. The angel blushed as he wondered if Crowley had undressed him. And where his clothes had gone.

He desperately tried not to reflect on yesterday. The summoning had been surprising but not unheard of. He was used to being summoned at random to be scolded about 'wasted miracles’. He'd been prepared to point out he’d taken care of a Duke of Hell recently, hoping that would earn him some grace. Showing up when summoned had been ingrained in Aziraphale too long for him to question whether or not he would go. After all, they thought they couldn’t hurt him, why shouldn’t he?

He deeply regretted his overconfidence now. How easy it seemed at the time, how harmless! Only suddenly he was bound and Gabriel was cooly explaining that since he wasn’t meant to Fall, She meant him to repent. They would help him repent by-Aziraphale shut that thought off abruptly, shying away from remembering anymore of what happened the day before. 

“Right,” He muttered, “Enough of this. No point in sulking all day! I wonder where Crowley went to?” Aziraphale climbed out of the rather oversized bed determined to put the previous day behind him. He began searching for his clothes. Unfortunately, they seemed to have disappeared. The angel frowned uneasily. 

_I hope they’re all right; they are getting a bit old now._

There was a robe set out, clearly meant for him. Since it was better than roaming about in only pyjama bottoms, he slid it on, wincing a bit as the fabric rubbed against his scars. _I wonder how long before they heal? And what about the muscles, they certainly pulled them hard enough before-_ Goodness, he needed to stop thinking about this! At least the robe seemed to be silk, so it didn’t hurt as badly.

He left the bedroom behind and entered the living area of Crowley’s flat. It sported a couch which was currently occupied by the last being he expected to see in the demon’s flat.

“Elíse! Whatever are you doing here! Gracious, how long has it been?”

She smiled at him over a teacup that smelled distinctly of matcha tea.

“Since after Eden, I think. Hello, Aziraphale. How are you this morning?”

Aziraphale winced a bit as the robe shifted just the right way to apply pressure to his wounds again. He briefly wondered why Crowley left a Virtue sitting in his living room but could hear banging from the region of the kitchen where the demon’s familiar aura was radiating. At least everything seemed fine on that end.

“Better I think.” He attempted to put on a brave smile. “Thank you for helping me out. I fear returning would have been far harder without your assistance. Were you staying long?”

“You’re welcome, my friend. And no, I must head out after I finish this. It’s been far too long since I drank a good cup of matcha. Heaven’s variation is lacking.”

The Virtue closed her eyes in pleasure as she took another sip. 

“That said, I will do what I can to keep tabs on this situation. I’m sorry I could not stop them earlier.”

The teacup vanished, and she focused intently on Aziraphale.

“Please don’t do any miracles for a bit by the way. You will regret it.”

“Oh, nonsense!” Aziraphale waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine!” To demonstrate, he snapped his fingers intending to numb the pain on his back for a bit.

“Aziraphale don’t!” exclaimed the Virtue.

Nothing happened. Except the world going suddenly hazy, his legs turning to jelly, and the sound of sudden running feet.

“Angel for Someone’s sake!” That would be Crowley shouting in his ear and helping him stand rather than collapse in an embarrassing puddle on the floor. Oh, dear. Perhaps this was worse than he thought…

The Virtue gave him an exasperated look. “Don’t do that again for at least a week, possibly two. You don’t get your wings cut off and just walk away as if nothing happened. Even secondary sets are important, you know.”

Aziraphale could tell Crowley was glaring at her as the world came into focus again. Elise stood.

“I have to return. Please do nothing foolish. You have to be the only Principality I know who’s more a danger to themselves than others.” Having made that rather dry remark, she vanished in the familiar flash of lightning.

Crowley glared at the spot she’d been standing a moment before. “Bloody angels! And you,” he aimed this at Aziraphale, “Did you not hear they damaged your fucking soul? Stop trying to push yourself too hard!”

“I’m fine,” the angel insisted, pushing the demon away and trying to keep up a brave face. _Honestly, everyone is so worried. It’s nothing. Surely the Archangels wouldn’t cripple me that badly!_ He tried instead to focus on something else.

“What happened to my clothes?”

“They didn’t make it, Angel, sorry.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale could feel his hopeful attitude from earlier sinking. “All of 

them?” 

“Getting angelic blood out of clothes is not a joke Angel,” the demon muttered, “You were certainly covered in enough of it.” 

“I see.” Aziraphale swallowed. “Couldn’t you miracle them clean?” 

“Oh sorry, I’ll make sure to dry clean them next time instead of worrying about you bleeding out on the floor. Do you know what would have happened if demonic healing didn’t work? I would have had to cauterize those, God knows with what! Last time I saw this sort of thing done it was with hellfire!”

The angel fought the urge to squirm beneath this tirade. A part of him felt bad for terrifying Crowley out of his wits by showing up in the poor demon’s flat with no prior warning and badly injured to boot. Mostly though he just felt wrung out and miserable. It did not help that the demon had invoked Her name. The demon avoided mentioning Her, though Aziraphale knew for a fact he still “talked” with the Almighty from time to time. One can’t keep that type of thing from an angel.

Unfortunately, the previous day had taken more of a toll than he first imagined. Or maybe he was just that upset at the loss of the coat. He had owned it for over 150 years! He could feel actual tears welling up to his embarrassment. 

“Oh hell, Angel, I’m sorry. Look I made you breakfast. Try eating something please.” 

Said angel scrubbed at his eyes fiercely, trying to calm down. He managed a rather watery smile. 

“It’s fine, my dear. I appreciate your help in healing me. I’m sure that could not have been easy.”

“Forget it,” muttered Crowley, heading towards the kitchen. Aziraphale followed and was delighted to see pancakes with strawberries.

“Oh, those look lovely!” He sat down and proceeded to eat. A rather amused demon made tea for the angel, then coffee for himself to the angel’s disgust. 

“I do not understand how you can possibly drink that awful sludge.” 

“Espresso is a delicacy according to some, Angel,” quipped the demon as he settled across from Aziraphale. The kitchen table was a bit small, seeing as how a large kitchen did not mean lots of guests, thank you, just plenty of room for all the expensive kitchen gadgets that would thrill a certain picky gourmet angel.

“So, Angel, are you going to tell me what happened?” Crowley asked, sipping at his drink.

“I rather assume that would be self-evident,” the angel responded shortly, focusing on his food. The demon rolled his eyes but let Aziraphale eat for a bit before trying again. 

“So what, they just grabbed you, returned Upstairs and then cut them off without an explanation?”

Aziraphale almost choked on his pancakes. 

“Oh goodness no, not that quickly! They said it was... chastisement. Something to the effect that I didn’t Fall but still interfered with the Great Plan. Obviously She wants me to repent so they would... help.”

Crowley lost control of his temper and slammed the coffee mug down on the table. Fortunately, it knew better than to break. “CHASTISEMENT?! Do they call mutilating your bloody ssssoul chastisement? What, a cat of nine tailsssss is too nice for them?” The demon took a deep breath and reigned it back in. “Right, never mind Heaven’s sick terms for torture, what I meant was how the fuck did they get you in the first place?”

“Ahh. I erm, travelled on my own. I received a summons and thought it would be fine to show up. Figured they would keep up the fuss about my miracles or something of the sort. Or they wanted to replace me. Just because they would leave me alone doesn’t mean there doesn’t still need to be a Principality of Europe after all. Demotion is one thing they can still do. And technically it IS a demotion just a bit more, physical than normal.”

Crowley stared at him, wondering if the angel knew how utterly wrong that sounded. Aziraphale squirmed under his gaze and made short work of the rest of his breakfast, speaking between bites.

“Looking back, I was rather foolishly overconfident. But that’s neither here nor there. I think you can guess the rest of the story. Regardless of how what’s done is done.”

“You can’t be bloody serious Aziraphale. Your soul is damaged, you idiot. Do you have any inkling how long this will take to heal?! You’ve lost a portion of your powers, you know!”

Throughout the demon’s last remarks, Aziraphale had stood and taken his dishes to the sink where he was trying to focus on washing them. Finally, unable to bear it another moment, he snapped out a response. “Can we please talk about something else, I’m well aware of my current and future limitations thank you. You needn’t rub them in my face.”

Crowley drew another deep breath, trying to calm the fuck down. The only thing he was accomplishing at the moment was upsetting his angel further. “Who’s the Virtue by the way? How the bloody heaven did you befriend someone in the Second Choir, and where the fuck was SHE during your trial after Armageddon?”

“Elíse? She’s the Virtue of Love and used to be one of the best sources of gossip in Heaven.” The angel looked a bit uncomfortable. “I don’t know if you remember or not, but before the Fall, gossip used to be the most popular pastime for idle angels. As the Virtue of Love, she had lots, and I heard quite a bit from the Principalities back in the day so we would share. She may be from the Second Choir, but Elíse was never one to care about ranks. Unfortunately, since humans multiplied, she’s gotten very busy and I honestly almost never see her anymore. Gossip may still be strong, but it takes time for it to travel. I doubt she heard anything in time for the Trial, especially as fast as it was. This must have been a bit... more thought out.”

“Those absolute wankers, I can’t believe they call this punishment. They treat you like shite for millennia, condemn you for using extra miracles while trying to help the humans they’re supposed to be watching over, and they call themselves bloody examples of righteousness. Because encouraging Holy Wars throughout history is certainly ‘righteous, hah! They wouldn’t know righteousness if it hit them in the face the bunch of stuck up bastards!”

“STOP!” Aziraphale spun around to face him, and it horrified the demon to see the angel had tears on his cheeks at this point. “I know you’re not fond of them, but please stop insulting them! I’m not the best example of an angel, I know. And surely they wouldn’t do this to a fellow angel if they didn’t deserve it. It’s my fault for not being a better angel. If I could ever learn to control myself...”

“And now you can stop,” snarled the demon, “because If you stand there and actually tell me you are responsible for this sick thing they call punishment, I swear Aziraphale on, on 6000 years of friendship ( _and love_ Crowley added to himself) I will storm Heaven’s gates no matter the cost. I will not sit here and let you even TRY to tell yourself you deserve this. I’ll drop it for now, but I promise you, angel, they are a bunch of sadistic bastards up there.”


	2. Making Amends and Scars

Crowley stormed off to deal with his plants, and to try to calm down before he made things worse. Aziraphale meanwhile took to doing the dishes from breakfast, or rather HIS breakfast as Crowley had eaten nothing as usual. The demon owned a rather expensive looking dishwasher, but the angel appreciated having something menial to do with his hands while he desperately tried to control his emotions. 

_Must you always push? I know it’s not exactly right I just... clearly I don’t understand them. Why? Why do they treat me so? Gabriel, in particular, can be quite... harsh at times. Surely it’s my fault, why else would they do it? Why bother going to all that effort for someone if they don’t care at all?_ Aziraphale sighed. _Still, I shouldn’t blame Crowley for being upset, he has that right. And it is confusing I’m sure, especially to an outsider._ The angel cringed at that last thought. _I need to apologise. Whatever the reasons for this situation, I will be... vulnerable for a bit if I can’t do miracles. Which rather traps the two of us together it seems._ Aziraphale froze, hand hovering over the plug in the sink. Oh, dear. They were going to be stuck together for possibly several weeks. He desperately tried to quell the blush that was threatening to flood his cheeks.

Having finished the dishes, Aziraphale wandered back to the living room to settle on Crowley’s couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable piece of furniture, but at least it was a place to sit. Unfortunately, the demon was a bit lacking in books. The angel eyed the television set up nearby but didn’t feel desperate enough to try that form of distraction yet. His eyes strayed to a particularly lovely painting of what appeared to be something in space. He was trying to remember if the shapes and colours were supposed to represent a galaxy, a gas cloud, or what, when a voice spoke. 

“You know, Angel, there are some things on television you might prefer to that nebula”

Aziraphale jumped and turned to find an uncomfortable-looking Crowley staring at the same painting. “Thank you, I’m truly not one for television. Though I suppose I could give it a try.”

Silence reigned for several moments.

“Look, I’m sorry I upset you. I know this isn’t easy, but you need to at least consider that what they do to you, what they’ve done to you isn’t exactly right Angel.”

The angel in question pursed his lips for a moment. “I understand it is... different from your perspective. I promise to consider the matter.” He slumped back against the couch for a moment, wiggling a bit in an attempt to find a comfortable position for both his back and the rest of him. _Goodness, however does he sit on this? Seems concrete blocks would be more comfortable!_ “It seems I’ll have plenty of time to do so. Perhaps I’ll give the television thing another go as well.” He smiled at Crowley and was confused to find the demon staring at the painting harder than ever. _Odd, if I didn’t know better I’d say he was blushing?_

The demon meanwhile was trying to erase the image of a wiggling angel from his mind. _Cute, so bloody adorable, why the fuck do you do this to me, Angel?_

The demon sighed and shoved his affection down again. “Look, Angel, you can’t be hanging around the bookshop on your own until your miracles return. If you stay here, I can monitor your soul for you. If you like.”

“Would you? I hate being a bother-”

“You’re not. And it’s not that difficult.” 

“Thank you, Crowley.” Aziraphale beamed at him. “I think I’ll need a few of my books though.”

The demon strived not to roll his eyes. “Of course. Make a list, a small list Aziraphale!” This last was in response to the eager look on the angel’s face. “And if you swear to stay here, I’ll go after them.” 

“You’re too kind.”

“Ugh, don’t please.”

With the addition of a few of his precious books, Aziraphale settled down happily to reading and recuperating. Crowley allowed himself to also relax a little. A part of him still feared the archangels would come back for their wayward Principality. So the demon spent most of the afternoon quietly going over his wards meticulously. He’d picked up a few tricks from Aziraphale through the 6000 years they’d known each other (and vice versa) but only recently had he updated his to exclude ALL occult beings, instead of merely minor ones.

Later that night, he lay in bed, watching the angel roll around a bit in an effort to find a more comfortable spot. “You OK there Angel?”

“I’m fine.” The angel made an unhappy face. “Mostly.”

“Want me to numb your back?” 

The angel sighed. “Please.” He sighed in relief as the discomfort vanished. “Thank you. I wish I was less of a burden.” 

Crowley twitched. “For the love of Someone, please stop listing yourself as a burden, Angel. You’re not. You never have been.”

Aziraphale blushed. “I’m glad it doesn’t bother you,” he grimaced. “I’ll be glad when this sleeping bit is over.”

The demon smirked. “Careful, we might make you take up the sin of sloth.”

“Haha. Hilarious,” muttered the angel, even as his eyes drifted shut. “Good night, my dear.” 

“Night, Angel.” 

Aziraphale drifted off to sleep, and Crowley was left to stare at the angel. He still felt bad for pushing too hard earlier. It was just difficult to let it go when Aziraphale was far better than any of those wankers up there. He knew it. He knew his angel was better.

As often happened, he found his thoughts straying to... conversation with a certain Supreme Being. _Why? Why did you let this happen to him? Why the fuck don‘t you rein them in? Do you want this?! They‘re supposed to be just and good. They‘re supposed to be beings of love. Instead, they‘re torturing one of their own, one of the best things you ever made. Do you just not care? Is this a sink or swim thing? Because I‘m pretty sure they‘re fucking sinking! This is not good parenting so help me, he doesn't deserve it and never has-_

“My dear, if you wish to have a philosophical conversation at 3 am, I’m all for it. But please stop yelling at the Lord in my ear.”

Crowley choked and sputtered out, “You, what, look, Angel, if you don’t like it stop bloody eavesdropping!”

Aziraphale hoisted himself on to an elbow and glared at the demon. “Crowley, I can’t exactly ignore you praying when you do it directly next to me. I’m a Principality in case you’ve forgotten. You are, quite bluntly and literally, speaking next to me and expecting me to ignore you shouting!”

“Yeah well…” The demon heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Angel. This isn’t the best of days all right.” He hesitated, debating inwardly for a moment before speaking again. “Look, I’m sorry I lost my temper earlier. I understand that it’s much harder to see it. You’ve been dealing with this for a long time. But Angel, they have never treated you right. They belittle your thoughts, your person, your loves. They pick and pick at every bloody thing. And I dare you to tell me that saving the world from their bloodthirsty desires is supposed to warrant having your fucking wings cut off.” Crowley was glaring at Aziraphale by this point, who was gnawing on his bottom lip unhappily.

“I... I just don’t know why though. They’re angels! Shouldn't they at least not harm me in such a way without reason?” He shifted so he could twist his hands in the sheets nervously. “Do, do you think my soul will really suffer permanent damage?”

“Probably,” Crowley muttered, refusing to look at the angel.

Aziraphale abruptly sat up, determination on his features. “Crowley, will you look and see what you think?”

The demon stared for a moment. “You want me to look at your soul?”

“Yes. If you don’t mind.”

“If I don’t mind. Yeah sure, why not?” Replied the shocked demon. _Guess looking at souls isn’t as intimate as it used to be?_

Aziraphale pushed himself up to rest on his knees, hands neatly folded in his lap. The trust on his face was difficult for Crowley to deal with. The demon mirrored the angel's position and took a deep breath. He'd avoided looking at Aziraphale's soul earlier, as souls were usually considered rather personal by most spiritual beings. Mostly though he'd avoided looking because he truly didn't want to see how bad the damage was. The brief glimpse the demon had gotten in healing Aziraphale's back had been enough to turn his stomach. 

With that last thought, Crowley braced himself and let his vision shift out of focus. Immediately, the other plane became sharper and the golden light that was Aziraphale's pure essence came into existence. He'd seen Aziraphale's soul on various occasions before, mostly when shit was serious, but it never ceased to bowl him over. A part of Crowley, the part that knew he was Fallen and Damned, always cowered back from the sight. But most of him felt an unfailing sense of wonder at the beautiful golden glow that hovered in a cloud-like shape in the place where the angel's corporation sat. 

Crowley took another deep breath, trying to push down the affection that was threatening to bubble over (as usual). Focusing on the angel's soul, he could see where the secondary wings had been severed. There was a... tear for lack of a better word. It seemed to bleed and gape like an open wound. The demon cringed. However you looked at it, it was bad. It wasn't 'bleeding' in the sense corporeal wounds did, but was more festering and causing Aziraphale a lot of unspoken grief. There was also an unmistakable feeling that something was missing, a loss that could not be overlooked. 

"Well, it's definitely damaged. Looks like they cut out a bloody hunk of it and just left it afterwards. You'd think they would at least care enough not to leave the wound open like that, nasty bit of work..."

"I'm sure they would have healed it if they'd had the time, I mean when Elise found me we left rather rapidly," Aziraphale interjected this comment quickly and a little desperately. Crowley shoved down the urge to roll his eyes. He'd had enough fighting with his angel for one day, though the sight in front of him was making it harder and harder to resist cursing out the Archangels for their actions.

"It looks painful, you sure you're not in more pain than you're telling me, Angel?"

Aziraphale gnawed on his lip, clearly debating with himself. "I- I suppose it hurts a bit. I just can't see what the use of fussing over it is though." 

The demon clenched his teeth. "Because it could get worse and become a problem? Beyond the fact that you're sans miracles as it is. Bloody Heaven, Angel, you're allowed to complain when you're hurt! If I will be watching your soul heal you need to tell me if there's a problem!" He was shouting again, blast it all. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting his vision shift back to the regular world.

A loud sniffle sounded in the quiet bedroom.

Crowley stiffened. _Oh, fuck don't cry, please don't cry, I want to burn down Heaven as it is, I can only take so much._ He opened his eyes and found Aziraphale with his eyes closed clearly trying to regain his composure before the poor angel had a breakdown. _Ahh, bloody festering bollocks._ "Oy, Angel, it's OK, it's fine, I mean it will be OK, just calm down."

The angel angrily swiped at his face. "Oh, dash it all. Why am I so ridiculous? I'm sorry Crowley. It must be the wounds, maybe I just need to heal a bit more. I suppose I am in more pain than I thought." Slim fingers reached under his chin and tilted his face up. "Aziraphale," the demon spoke quietly, "there's nothing wrong with being upset. You have the right to be bothered by their actions. But don't let them get to you like this, they don't deserve the consideration."

The angel rubbed at his nose unhappily. “I wish I could understand. It feels so... ridiculous to cry over something so small.” 

The demon sighed and pulled back. He ached to do something, to even hold the angel... but that seemed a bad idea at the moment. This vulnerable, he was genuinely afraid he'd push Aziraphale farther than the angel was comfortable with. 

Apparently Aziraphale had no such qualms, as the angel abruptly buried his head in his hands and began to cry in earnest. "Why do they hate me? What did I do? I've always tried to be a good angel, I swear! I just-I just want to be good, to be... faithful to Her, why does it feel like however hard I try I get nowhere?"

"I... You..." _Oh, fuck it._ He wrapped a gentle arm around the angel's shoulders and Aziraphale unsurprisingly leaned over and clung to the demon, burying his face in Crowley's shoulder. Crowley wrapped his other arm around the angel's waist, mindful of the wounds on his back. He could hear the muffled apologies and excuses the poor angel was making even as he held him, resting his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder.

"Shh, it's OK, let it out, Angel."

Eventually, the angel drifted off still clinging to Crowley, and the demon sighed and slid them both to lie down. Somehow he knew this wasn't the last they'd have of this. By morning he knew Aziraphale well enough to know the angel would try to logic it all away somehow. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but maybe if he kept it up they'd finally get somewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short but it broke best here. More to come :)
> 
> Please thank LawrVert once more for being as awesome beta! :)  
> My beta reader's profile can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrVert/profile)


	3. Bubbles and Breakthroughs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing recovery, setbacks, and a bit of a discussion about the Fall. Also a breakthrough.

Sure enough, the next morning Aziraphale refused to talk about Heaven, except to argue in their defence. Not wanting to fight with his angel, Crowley let it go, intending to return to the subject later.

Observing the contentedly humming angel currently washing up at his sink, the demon decided to finally broach a new subject.

“We should wash your wings, Angel.”

Aziraphale abruptly dropped the dishtowel he’d been hanging up. “Wash?!” He squeaked. 

“Yeah, your... um, the main set is probably a mess. Never really thought to check at the time.”

“I’m sure they’re fine, thank you,” the angel responded tightly, “And I’m not in the mood for a shower at this moment.” 

“Not a shower, Angel, a bath. Come on, I even promise bubbles and candles if you like.”

“Bubbles.”

Crowley tried rather hard not to laugh. “Right, bubbles. Trust me, Angel, you’ll like it when you see it.”

Aziraphale had to admit the demon was right. Then again, he wasn’t expecting him to come up with a full-fledged Japanese style bathroom! The tub was divine, so to speak, being large, deep, and full of delightfully steamy hot water and the promised bubbles. It actually was pleasant to soak and feel some sense of his punishment flow away.

He was leaning back and practically drifting off when the glass door to the bath and shower room opened. 

"All right Angel, out with them."

There was a squeak from the angel and a rather large splash as the angel attempted to yank himself further under the bubbles, suddenly even more grateful for their existence.

"CROWLEY!"

"Oh relax, I can't see anything through that mountain of foam. Besides, I've seen you in plenty of baths in Rome and since. Now turn around and bring 'em out. Getting them clean will be easier if you turn around and let me scrub them for you."

Aziraphale hesitated and shifted uneasily, eyes on the door behind him. Crowley didn't miss this.

"Aziraphale, Angel, I promise no one is going to get to you without going through me first. Relax."

Aziraphale tensed up but turned around. After several moments of working up his nerve, his remaining wings burst into existence. The demon sucked in his breath sharply. The angel tensed up, even more, eyes squeezing shut, unable to bear looking for himself.

"How bad is it?"

"Well, it's not good," Crowley responded dryly, surveying the usually cream feathers which were now matted and mustard yellow with dried celestial blood. Crowley sighed. "Hold still this might take a while..." 

He ended up using the showerhead and a great deal of a special wash for feathers. He also committed the usually unpardonable sin of getting soap in the tub, but thankfully miracles could take care of that. Eventually, he coaxed the angel into turning around and leaning against the side of the tub while Crowley dealt with the mess of powder down on his scapula feathers. The blood was caked there quite heavily like thick clay mud. 

The demon finally drew back and rinsed the last of the suds off. Aziraphale had gone quiet earlier and was currently lying stretched out over the tub. Apparently the grooming and warm bath had left him too blissed out to notice what was going on at this point.

“Come on, Angel,” smirked the demon, tapping his cheek lightly with his fingers. “Time to get out.” The angel stirred.

“Mmm.”

Crowley snickered. “Wake up, Angel. You’ll slide off and drown if you keep that up.” 

Aziraphale blinked blearily, then murmured, “I’d rather stay here, thank you. It feels safe. And you do smell lovely.”

Crowley snorted and tried not to blush. “Yeah, sure, Angel. What do I smell like, huh? Sulphur, brimstone?”

“Cinnamon. Leather. Spicy. Something else, something almost... metallic. I don’t know what it is. It’s underneath you know, way down.”

“Blood. Loads of that in Hell,” muttered the demon, but the angel was stubborn even half out of it.

“No, it’s not blood. I know what blood smells like. That’s not it.” He yawned. Crowley rolled his eyes and shoved a hand under the angel’s nose. The angel took it, and the demon hauled him out rather quickly, staring at the door. 

“Out, Angel.” The demon snapped buresquely, moving to get out of the room before his embarrassment became more clear. _I smell lovely, huh?_ _Didn’t know he’d notice that sort of thing._ The cinnamon and spice resulted from the body wash and hair products he used, miracled or not. And leather was self-explanatory, between the Bentley and his preferences in clothes. But what else was Aziraphale smelling?

* * *

Crowley found himself grateful for the few sets of pyjamas he’d bought over time. Aziraphale was not one for miracled clothes and the angel was uncomfortable enough. Having a few clothes to wear besides just robes was clearly relaxing for the angel. Fortunately, Crowley kept a few things around for himself as well. Besides his preferred silk sets, he’d taken to using a variety of old rocker t-shirts over the last few decades. Either option was better than his real preference, which was nothing but boxers, if those.

It was a struggle not to admire Aziraphale in sky blue pyjamas though. They went quite well with cloud white curls and adorably round angels. Aziraphale’s corporation was soft enough, with his round belly and thicker build, without the lighter colors enhancing it. Crowley groaned silently at the last thought. It was getting harder to stomp down his attraction to the angel when they were around each other this much.

Nonetheless, the demon ruthlessly crushed his bloody affection down, internally snarling at himself for being caught up in something like that when his angel was in such a fragile state. The subtle attempts from his mind at pointing out that it would be a perfect time to assure the angel that he was still beautiful to someone(or some demon), he treated like failed houseplants.

For a while, sweet darkness swallowed the demon. Then suddenly Crowley was awake. It took a few moments to realise why. Then he heard it.

A whimper, so soft he almost missed it.

He propped himself on one elbow, eyes easily adjusting to the dark. “Aziraphale?”

The bed stirred and he could see the angel thrashing about a bit, clearly caught in nasty dreams. Aziraphale let out what sounded like a muffled sob. Crowley cautiously tried to shake the angel awake, only for Aziraphale to latch on to the demon. Now that they were this close, Crowley could feel his angel shivering. He gently stroked his fingers through cloud white curls. 

“Wake up Angel, come on. It’s a nightmare. Come back to me.”

He could sense when Aziraphale woke up, panting and still shaking. Slowly the shaking subsided, and the angel lay quiet.

“Why?” His whisper was loud in the quiet room. “Why did they do it? I-I just don’t understand however many times I go over it! I’ve always tried so hard, why do all my efforts mean nothing to them? Why couldn’t I be better? Did I really deserve such extreme measures?” The anguish in his voice tugged at Crowley. The demon murmured soothing nonsense into Aziraphale’s hair, trying to calm him down. It would be easier if the angel would bloody well admit Upstairs was full of wankers, but there was only so far he could push him. Getting Aziraphale to even discuss the issue was a pain.

And so it continued, becoming a nightly routine. By day they shared take away and Crowley convinced Aziraphale to watch some telly. At least cooking shows seemed to delight the angel, but history documentaries were a mutual favourite. They wasted many hours mocking various errors they found. 

And Crowley did indeed keep an eye on the angel’s soul. He couldn’t do much for the scabs on his back, as they were mostly a physical manifestation of what was going on ‘beneath the surface’ so to speak. Instead, he tried to watch the festering wound that was still open on the angel’s soul.

But from time to time Crowley tried to coax Aziraphale into talking about his treatment in Heaven. It went in fits and starts as the stubborn angel refused to admit the others could be wrong. But sometimes the angel would rant about something or other they had done in the past. Occasionally plying the angel with a glass or two of wine helped as well, though Crowley kept away from the subject after more than that. Encouragement was one thing, he drew the line at forcing his angel to talk when vulnerable.

They steered away from any conversation about Her by silent mutual agreement. That was a landmine Crowley had no intention of stepping on. The nightmares kept coming though. And Crowley kept doing his best to get the angel through them.

* * *

Aziraphale was in Heaven again, Gabriel was speaking so sadly of how he had to correct him, of how this was the only road to repentance. He argued with the archangel, even in dreams he knew it was fruitless, but he still tried. The other angel never listened. He jovially insisted it would be over soon. Gabriel patted him on the head, told him to be a good little angel and hold still. 

It hadn’t quite been like that, but dreams are never fully accurate. And as far as the attitudes Aziraphale had experienced for aeons, it was rather spot on. He didn’t want to live through it again though, he just wanted to forget for a while! Desperate, he tried to pull away.

Darkness, the sense of soft sheets and mattress surrounded the angel. Fingers were sliding through his hair soothingly. Someone was whispering to him, reassuring him the nightmare was over, that the archangels were far away. He tried to bite back a sob. 

The world shifted, feeling as if it tilted oddly before settling at a different angle than before. The fingers in his hair were gone, but he was being held. Arms wrapped around him, pressed him against something firm and fleshy. Someone’s chest? Aziraphale had a vague sense he should be concerned, but everything felt... safe. Familiar. He sleepily snuggled against the body holding him, eager to be touched again. He felt the body pressed against his let out a huff. 

“So bloody touch starved, huh Angel?”

He felt the twitch of consciousness come closer. He didn’t want to wake though. He wanted to stay here, floating in the safety of half-sleep. A strange sensation pressed against his hair. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Crowley had kissed the top of his head. Maybe he was just dreaming all of this after all. At least it was a far better dream than the one before.

* * *

Blood and pain and absolute agony! Aziraphale awakened from the sense of a blade about to come down screaming.

He shot up and immediately curled in on himself, trying to calm down. The angel could hear Crowley swearing profusely by his side.

“If the next war doesn’t involve Earth as a battlefield, sign me up. I’ll be more than happy to burn Heaven to the ground!” The demon finished.

Aziraphale stiffened. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no need for that extreme of an idea.”

“You’re practically hyperventilating Aziraphale! I don’t think it’s that extreme at this point!”

The demon reached out, having gotten into the habit of holding the angel. But Aziraphale pulled away. 

“Just leave me be, I’m fine!” He snapped, still panting slightly from the adrenaline.

“You’re not ‘fine’, Angel, I can tell! Stop being so bloody stubborn.”

“I’m NOT being stubborn! You don’t understand how it feels, you have no right to tell me if I’m fine or not!” 

Crowley was still for a moment, struggling to simply glare at the angel, instead of revealing how much that hurt.

“Fine. You’re fine, I’m fine, and we can go back to sleep.”

Aziraphale froze, suddenly hesitant. He started to speak, but Crowley had already laid down and rolled away from the angel. Biting at his lip for a moment, the angel then lay down and tried to go back to sleep, feeling rather as if he’d just put his foot in it without meaning to.

The dreams were always the same. He knew he was on trial. He didn't know how and didn't even know why at least not really. But there were voices, shouting and accusing him of questioning, as well as rebellion, and disloyalty. 

And then there were the hands on his wings. They pulled them painfully tight, tugging, straining the muscles. As if a string were pulled taut. And then white-hot agony burned through him as they started cutting them away. One of the smallest wings tore from his back, and the agony was beyond comprehension. 

Suddenly he was falling. Freewheeling, tumbling through the skies faster than any meteor. He felt as if parts of him were burning away, ripping from him as the speed of the wind tore past him. 

But then came the worst part, always at the end. Every time he had this dream, he dreaded this part. Even trapped in sleep, he sensed it coming and tried to pull away, to wake up, to avoid it. 

But the dream never stopped. He felt warmth, more warmth than he ever felt in the waking world now. And then it was gone, that precious warmth. Torn from him, ripped from his very soul, freezing him out. Ice spreading through him, colder than anything he could have ever imagined. Like millions of tiny blades burning as heat never could. 

Cold. 

He was so cold.

He was always cold now. 

Crowley awoke gasping, trying to just breathe past the sheer agony of those shards of ice that seemed to be in his very essence. But for once warmth seemed to answer him, and he clung to the source, practically coiling around it like the snake he always was now. It seemed to increase, and after what felt like an eternity, he felt the world regain focus. He realized he was curled around Aziraphale, who had wrapped his arms around the demon. He grumbled and tried to muster the will to pull away. _Bloody Heaven you're warm Angel._ It took him several moments to realise what he was feeling. And then he started desperately yanking away.

"Are you insssane?" The demon snarled. "Don’t you think blatantly displaying your Grace before a demon is a BAD IDEA?!

The angel hung on stubbornly. "No, I don't. I've been well aware of your fasciation for quite a while."

Crowley shoved down a hysterical urge to laugh. _Oh, of course, of course, you knew, you bloody idiot._ "Yeah, it's called a fucking addiction. Let go, you stubborn idiot."

He managed to pull away, and the two sat as far apart as the large bed would allow, refusing to look at each other. 

"So. You knew I was..." 

"Yes," Aziraphale interrupted, "I noticed as I said. You gravitate in your sleep towards warmth. At first, I thought it was normal warmth, but once, when the room we were in had a rather large fire, I realized that even though it was clearly the better physical heat source, you were still moving towards me. At that point, I realized the heat you were seeking was more, er, 'spiritual' in nature. I found if I increased my Grace, or rather its presence, you became rather...," he turned bright red, "clingy."

Crowley closed his eyes, feeling shame. It was an attraction that he usually tried not to think about, even more so than his other less instinctual attraction to his angel. It couldn't be denied though. Throughout history, sometimes they had shared a bed, and he had wondered if the angel was more angelic than normal. _Apparently, the answer's yes._ The demon pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling frustration at the thought that Aziraphale had just offered this up without thinking.

"You know most angels wouldn't be eager to share their Grace with the Fallen." He muttered.

He felt the bed shift as Aziraphale squirmed. "I'm aware it probably is a bizarre idea. I just couldn't help it. Perhaps if you did go after it when you were awake I'd be alarmed, but I've never seen you do that when conscious. The closest I've ever seen you come was tonight. Are you all right? You seemed to be having the worst nightmare, and I was actually trying to wake you before..." The angel was blushing again. 

"Yeah, I'm fine, just dreaming about Falling makes the cold worse I swear." 

It took the demon several beats of silence to realise what he had said. _Well fuck._

Aziraphale was staring at him at last, but the horror on his face made Crowley wish he wasn't. "Oh, my dear-"

"Forget it, it was a long time ago."

The angel reached out cautiously and gently placed his hand on Crowley's. "I'm sorry. I wish I could help. Forgive me if offering what I can causes you more pain. I just always wanted to help."

 _Well, can't have him thinking that way._ "Ngk. Angel, it's not like that. I-bloody heaven," he swore, "look, I appreciate it, it does feel nice to be warm again. I just worry you don't know what you're offering"

Aziraphale turned red for a very different reason. "I'm not stupid."

Crowley killed that idea fast. "No Angel, I didn't mean it like that! You're, you're kind all right, I don't want to take advantage of it!" 

"You're not." They both realized for the first time how close they were shifting to each other and abruptly backed off.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Now what are you sorry for?” Asked the demon.

“I- I said you couldn’t understand, that you did not understand how it feels. That was cruel. I know you must have suffered too, I just meant that losing your wings, it’s... there are truly no words.”

The angel wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes to avoid facing Crowley at the moment.

“But I should never have pretended you don’t feel pain as well. Who hurts the most is a foul competition after all.”

The demon heaved a sigh. “Look, Angel, I grasp what you were trying to say. And I will not hold against you anything you’re saying right now, your emotions are all over the place.”

Aziraphale turned a beaming red at that. “I’m not THAT hysterical, am I?”

“You are NOT hysterical,” hissed Crowley, “you are dealing with bloody MILLENIA of abuse from the last place that should ever sink so low.”

“I- They don’t abuse angels in Heaven!” Exclaimed Aziraphale.

“Oh realllyyyy?” Crowley dragged out sardonically, “Do we need to go over the fact your soul is mutilated because you wanted to save the Earth and Humanity again Aziraphale?”

The angel drew in a shaky breath. “No. I understand that.” He studied his lap for a moment. “It’s funny. The most beautiful thing about both is their imperfections. It’s one reason I love them so.” He looked up with a soft smile. “I suppose I spent so long thinking about all MY imperfections, I forgot that none of us is perfect, except Her. And that includes the other angels.” He sighed sadly. 

“I rather suspect I’d gotten used to all of us representing Her, acting as the messengers as we were created to be. I forgot the messengers are not the message.” His lips quirked a bit. “And the message is up to interpretation. The others,” A vague gesture upwards, “see the rules and the regulations and drown in them. I see only the love and the caring and ache to share it. Humans have such a hard time, it seems cruel not to share love more than lists of dos and do nots. Of course one has to do those too at times. But Heaven has grown to love the letter, if you will, while erm-” 

It dawned on Aziraphale suddenly that he was rambling. And that a certain demon was watching him, head resting on one hand, with a great deal of fondness evident on his face.

“While a certain little wayward Principality has been obeying the spirit to take care of humans, even if it means giving away flaming swords and showing mercy to the Fallen when they try to have a chat.” Crowley drawled, his voice dense with affection.

The angel stared at him for a moment, his face scarlet. Too many thoughts were suddenly choking him. _Oh dear Heaven I love him. I love him so dearly I don’t know if I can bear it. I want to SAY it.... but even if I’m not as bad as Gabriel always said, I certainly don’t deserve him. Surely someone else out there can love him better._

Aziraphale swallowed and tried to focus on something other than his suddenly clamouring affection.

Crowley reached over and caught the angel’s hand gently. “So, you going to admit that Heaven’s capable of being abusive, or do we need to shelve that one again?”

There was an interminable pause as Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment and struggled. 

“Yes.”

The demon sighed. It was definitely a breakthrough after all this time. He narrowed his eyes as he remembered why they were having this conversation at unholy o’clock. “No more of that earlier either.”

The angel narrowed his eyes, his shoulders setting already. “I believe we just established that I enjoy obeying the spirit if not the letter.”

Crowley groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one down! I think I have about one, maybe two chapters left on this story. Don’t worry, there’s a one or two-shot after this that I’m sure will make you guys happy(I hope).
> 
> Japanese bathrooms combine the shower and tub in the same room. They also usually draw the bath ONCE and expect everyone to wash before getting in. Saves water and the bath stays clean if you’re not dirty when you enter the tub. This DOES mean that getting soap in the tub is usually a huge deal. Fortunately, miracles make that easier ;)
> 
> Mental Health Advice: I’d like to admit at this point that I’m accelerating the timeline of recovery dramatically. There’s a fine line between utter fantasy and hard realism. I want to state that I’m leaning a bit heavily in the fantasy direction because I REALLY want that sweet comfort. I am trying to follow a lot of the process though. Also, if all else fails and you are close to someone WILLING AND ABLE to help you deal with stuff, yes that can work. I didn’t see a therapist for many years. But if at all possible, find one. Above all, NEVER dump the burden of your mental health on your loved ones, it’s one thing if they wish to help. It’s another to make them the only source of help.
> 
> I’m not trying to give some kind of parental lecture, but I really want to make sure that this disclaimer is here. Because recovery is a messy process, and though it might look a lot like this, the time involved is FAR longer. Please seek outside help.
> 
> My beta reader's profile can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LawrVert/profile)


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